Detox
by you're running wild
Summary: Ulquiorra falls from grace.  Slight Ulquiorra/Grimmjow.
1. Part One

**Author's Note:** Warnings for language, eventual vague Ulquiorra/Grimmjow, and general opacity. It all takes place within _Hueco Mundo_ and _Los Noches_, at no particular time. Forgive my clumsiness with canon and accuracy. I hope you enjoy; it's been sitting on my hard drive long enough. Reviews are always dearly appreciated. Thank you for reading.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything.

_Detox_: Part One

Ulquiorra stretches his fingers apart to squint at the spaces in-between. There's nothing but the crisp white of the wall, the edges of his fingers making clean lines. No matter how much Ulquiorra squints, his vision never blurs – everything stands clear, perfectly visible. Ulquiorra feels a faint twitch in his facial muscles, right above his upper lip, and then thinks that's a lie. He drops his hand. His muscles won't move without his command.

* * *

><p>Tomorrow, Aizen calls for a meeting, and Ulquiorra finds himself wandering to the large room before he hears of it. The hallways turn in meaningless directions, looping and intertwining to create a maze of doors that are either empty or full and openings that lead to the desert outside. Sometimes, if Ulquiorra stands near enough to an opening, he thinks he can feel a breeze from outside, but when he watches the air it's stiff.<p>

Nnorita's the one to tell him. He catches Ulquiorra in-between a double arch, two white half-circles stretching, rising to meet the ceiling in the middle and folding down around their heads. The white looks off behind Nnorita's head, like it's an eggshell or a blend of gray. Nnorita glances down at him, lifting his mouth apart at an unnecessarily slow pace, tongue swiping his lips.

Ulquiorra shifts his hand from inside his pocket, rolling his wrist slowly. He looks at Nnorita without blinking.

Nnorita's lips bend into a sneer, and he says, "What're you looking at, brat?"

Ulquiorra thinks he doesn't have time for this. He moves forward, inwards to the building, but Nnorita's hand comes down to smack against his shoulder; the chains of his sword swing from the movement.

Nnorita shows all of his teeth when he says, "Not so fast, I'm not done with you yet." He leans down, and Ulquiorra can't stand the sight. Ulquiorra says, "Move."

Nnorita laughs, a high-pitched sound, "Is that what you wish, princess?"

Ulquiorra steps out quickly from under his hand. He can feel the weight of Nnorita's stare against his back, tickling between his shoulder-blades as he walks, measured, muted steps against the wide pieces of tile and cement. He hears Nnorita say, "Fucking brat, Aizen's called a meeting."

Ulquiorra doesn't pause or bother to raise his voice when he says, "I know."

* * *

><p>At the meeting, Ulquiorra sits next to Stark and across from Grimmjow in a tall, long chair. He keeps his eyes closed for most of the meeting. He can hear every time Stark shifts, elbows restless against the table-top, and the low tone of Aizen's voice. It doesn't feel like sleeping, but Ulquiorra can't keep his eyes open either.<p>

When Ulquiorra opens his eyes at the end of the meeting, Grimmjow's mouth is set into a wide grin, and he rocks back in his chair constantly. The chair legs bang against the ground and Ulquiorra watches him, feels the faint twitching above his mouth again.

He almost rises his fingers to press there; he thinks he can't trust his muscles anymore.

Aizen watches Grimmjow patiently until the noise quits, and then he raises his eyebrow, no other motion on his face. "That will be all."

Ulquiorra stands immediately to leave, hands finding their way back into his pockets. He closes his eyes against the graceful arch of Aizen's back when he bends to stand, and Ulquiorra nearly bumps into Stark's side before he catches himself.

* * *

><p>In Ulquiorra's room, there's a mirror that hangs from the back of his door. He stands in front of it and watches himself watching himself. His face looks calm and blank, eyes nothing but small pupils and wholesome green. He tracks the markings on his face with his eyes and looks all the way down until where he knows the hole in his chest lies. He presses his palm to it and feels the empty air, how the clothing gives and he could push right through.<p>

Ulquiorra can't remember anything of what it was like to be human. He wonders if he dreamt it, and then turns away from the mirror, a slight frown on his lips. He doesn't dream.

Grimmjow keeps catching Ulquiorra's shoulder in the hallway and then separating his lips into some kind of grin, a baring of his teeth, when Ulquiorra glances back at him. But Grimmjow never says anything, and Ulquiorra won't ask.

* * *

><p>One night, just as Ulquiorra's pushing his door open, he feels Grimmjow behind him, and pauses, considers turning around, but Grimmjow speaks before he can, voice low with timbre and raspy, like he's been choked or someone pressed tape to his lips, tearing it off seconds before. "Nnorita thinks you have a secret."<p>

Ulquiorra half-turns, enough so he can see the edges of Grimmjow's sandals, one billowing sleeve. "I'm not interested in what that animal thinks."

Ulquiorra can hear the grin, like a slick sick sliding undercurrent, when Grimmjow speaks again. "Is he an animal? What does that make me?"

It's provoking, and Ulquiorra simply watches the wall across from him.

Grimmjow steps closer, "Don't you think I'm an animal too?"

Ulquiorra says, "I won't play your game, Grimmjow. I have no time for this." He turns his head this time to catch Grimmjow's gaze, tilting his head back vaguely.

Grimmjow tosses a laugh out, shaking his head and wiggling his arms. "Oh, is that only reserved Aizen?" He bends low with a sweep of his hand, but keeps his eyes on Ulquiorra. "Forgive me, your highness."

Ulquiorra feels the twitch above his mouth, and he wonders if it shows because Grimmjow's mouth deepens at the corners, grin spreading wider.

Grimmjow moves in a splitting second – count twenty nine, thirty, thirty one – but Ulquiorra can see all of his separate motions building up until Grimmjow's leaning over him, his arm bent at the elbow, resting against his door frame, body hanging over Ulquiorra. "What's it you do with your time?"

Grimmjow's breath whispers against his his cheek and Ulquiorra lifts his eyes to watch the shape of Grimmjow's mouth. "Nothing of your concern."

He feels Grimmjow's laugh, his breath brushing harder against his cheek now, before Ulquiorra steps backwards into his room, shutting the door with a quiet click. He doesn't know how long Grimmjow stands outside his door for, but he can feel his presence for hours, floating in from under the crack of his door.

* * *

><p>Outside, the desert doesn't breathe. The sand blankets everything below the balcony where Ulquiorra stands. The railing here has been broken through on the end furthest him, smashed at the pillar so that it crumbles in a downward slope. Halibel watches Ulquiorra with quiet contemplation. Ulquiorra can tell because her eyebrows rise briefly when he glances over, her Fraccion backpedaling from her. Ulquiorra feels impulse tickle his fingers, but it's such a faint feeling that it ends before it can take any hold, and Ulquiorra can't remember what it felt like to begin with.<p>

He never questions her about it, but before he can wander inside one of the tall buildings, she appears behind him, and he pauses. She says, "There are rumors about you."

Ulquiorra can't find the point in her saying so, and he turns to watch her. He traces the inside lining of his pocket.

She continues, and he suddenly wishes he could see her mouth shaping the words, even though he knows he won't find any answers there either, just raw, white bone. "The Espada were never made to be friends." He imagines a small sneer circling her lips, even though it's unlike her.

He loses his patience. "What is your point?"

She takes a small step forward, "You're not like us." She pauses before she repeats, "There are rumors."

Ulquiorra says, "I'm aware."

Halibel cocks her head to the side, her voice coming out in a sharp, satisfied tone, like she was waiting for something and Ulquiorra willingly handed it to her. "Ah, but you're not." She disappears and Ulquiorra stays where he is.

He watches the clear skies, the outlines of the buildings reaching as far back as his sight carries, as far back as possible. There is no end to the sky, and there is no end to the buildings. Sprinkles of leftover sand brush inside his pants, against his ankles, but Ulquiorra can't feel it so he turns to walk inside a building, hands held still in his pockets.


	2. Part Two

_Detox_: Part Two

Ulquiorra stands in the center of his room and closes his eyes. He feels his power flit around the tips of his fingers, sinking down like the low rhythm of a bass against his spine; it swirls under his feet and when he opens his eyes, he feels it in every part of his body, stuffed into his pores, gnawing at the ropes of his muscles, cutting his blood cells in half. It's overwhelming and he has the urge to let it out. But there's no one to direct to against, no where to put it. He calms down and falls backwards onto his bed.

The power's still moving under his skin, waiting for a command. Ulquiorra allows a sneer and doesn't give the command. He thinks, just for that, he's never going to give it.

There's movement behind Ulquiorra's door not two minutes later, before the handle shutters and then gives, the door slamming open. Ulquiorra's standing before the door opens all of the way, and he watches as Grimmjow saunters through his door, shutting it behind him just as roughly as he opened it.

Ulquiorra stares, and Grimmjow bares his teeth. "Felt your little display."

Ulquiorra separates his lips and pauses a moment before he responds. "Did you."

Grimmjow's grin spreads like a disease, taking up his whole face, "Fuck yeah. The whole fucking building felt it."

Ulquiorra looks off to the side, rubs his fingers against the material in his pocket. "What are you doing here." He means to sound demanding, but it's flatness is baiting, and he knows it means Grimmjow won't be honest in the way he wants. He feels –

Grimmjow throws his head back in a laugh, taking a stance. "Isn't it obvious?" He raises an eyebrow. "_Cuatra._"

Ulquiorra says, "Get out."

Grimmjow comes forward, and he looks charged – like there's a thrumming under his skin, prickling every part of his body, a true live wire. He leans into Ulquiorra's space. "Make me."

Ulquiorra feels the responding surge of power, but he ignores it. Instead, he turns around to lay back down on his bed. "Leave, Grimmjow." He shifts to face the wall next to his bed, and closes his eyes.

Grimmjow snarls at him, "What the fuck is your problem."

Ulquiorra knows he's giving into something when he says, "I don't have one."

He doesn't expect what happens next and his body doesn't respond quickly enough, like it woke up from a paralysis and can't remember how to move before Grimmjow's hand lands on his shoulder, shaking him roughly. "Wake the fuck up, Ulquiorra."

Ulquiorra breaks Grimmjow's movement with his forearm, pushing it hard against Grimmjow's arm. He grits his teeth and stares at Grimmjow. "Get out."

Grimmjow looks like he's going to spit for a minute before he pushes his lips up into a sneer and disappears.

Ulquiorra presses his palm against his shoulder and rolls back to the wall.

He doesn't leave his room the next day. And when he feels a presence behind his door, he stares until it disappears. No one bothers to come in, and a part of Ulquiorra feels satisfied.

* * *

><p>Aizen calls a meeting, and Ulquiorra feels forced out from his room. Grimmjow seems to be waiting for him, standing not far from his room, walking in a vague loop – like he had been planning to walk with Ulquiorra to the meeting. But Ulquiorra glances at him briefly, and right as Grimmjow looks at him, he disappears, reappearing outside of the meeting room. He doesn't think of what it might mean to Grimmjow. He feels the twitch above his mouth and is sure it means nothing. Grimmjow fucks with him too much.<p>

He doesn't look at Grimmjow once during the meeting, and doesn't feel the weight of his stare, either. But he can feel Stark watching him, the back of his neck, the curve of his shoulders, and Ulquiorra closes his eyes against it. There are more Espada looking now – Szayel and Barragan in sync with their gaze.

At the ending of the meeting, before Ulquiorra can stand, Aizen tells him, "Stay. I'd like to speak with you." Ulquiorra inclines his head slightly, "Yes."

Aizen watches Ulquiorra calmly, taking time to examine every piece of him after the other Espada have left. Not even Gin remains by his side for this. Ulquiorra keeps still, his hands silent inside his pockets, for once, he thinks.

Aizen opens his mouth, breath escaping slowly, before he says, "Is there something you wish to tell me?"

Ulquiorra meets his gaze calmly, "No, nothing."

Aizen nods, "Very well. Then I have a request for you." The piece of hair falling in front of Aizen's face suddenly disturbs Ulquiorra and he wishes it would move, that Aizen would have slicked all of his hair back. Why keep that strand?

Ulquiorra answers, "Yes?"

Aizen's mouth mars a slight smile, the barest quirking of his lips. "Tell Stark I'd like a word."

Ulquiorra feels something in his face darken even though he can't name it, doesn't know what the movement would have been, how that is even possible. "Of course."

Aizen nods, "Good. You may go."

Ulquiorra turns and disappears on his third step.

* * *

><p>Grimmjow continually waits for Ulquiorra outside of his room. Ulquiorra feels his presence circling, like an animal stalking it's prey, some kind of unbreakable curiosity striking Grimmjow hard. Ulquiorra doesn't understand – not even after over eight days of it. Ulquiorra thinks, Grimmjow tries to predict his movements, when he'll leave next, and what he'll do when he does.<p>

He sneers, facing the mirror on the back of his door. If that's what Grimmjow wants, he'll never get it. Ulquiorra touches his hand to his door handle but doesn't move. He thinks he'll stand there all day if he has to. This is not a game for him; it is something Grimmjow will never understand. And he will never bow low enough to explain.

He feels Grimmjow on the other side of the door for longer than Ulquiorra can stand to count for. He thinks that Grimmjow must know how close he is – that the weight of the metal is underneath is hand now, his fingers grasped over it, not really feeling it's smoothness. Grimmjow must know that he's standing right there, or else he would have left by now. Ulquiorra doesn't feel satisfied by this. But he can't stop his fingers from turning the handle the slightest inch, not even a full inch – like a bad tease.

And Grimmjow's presence quirks for a second, a miniscule rise in his power, like he jumped – like a bad invitation.

The next day, Ulquiorra doesn't feel anything outside his door. He doesn't leave his room, either. He feels something ticking in the back of his skull, like a quiet hammer in consistent intervals hitting over and over. He counts to them and closes his eyes.

He watches his shadows fall against the wall when it grows dark. He numbers the amount of tiles on his bedroom floor. He changes his clothes, so slowly that he feels irritated with his muscles less than half way through but can't manage to go any more quickly. He wears his sandals without socks for a while. He sleeps. But whatever he does, he does not think.

* * *

><p>There's a moment where Ulquiorra thinks he should have seen more, and then Grimmjow comes at him in a hallway, fingers knotting and pulling hard in his shirt, stretching the material to breaking point, and face just inches from his, pulled into a tight, hard expression – something unforgiving in the shape of his mouth and eyes, teeth bared like he's going to bite.<p>

Ulquiorra feels the wall slam against his back and shuts his eyes. He doesn't bother to open them when he says, "What."

Grimmjow sounds like he's going to spit, "They're all watching you, you fucking fool."

Ulquiorra's mouth twitches and he can't bother to stop it. "I will only ask you one more time. What is it you want, Grimmjow?" The black behind his eyes burns, like there's a bright light and Ulquiorra still can't shut it out.

"You think this is some shit joke? Everyone knows, fucking pansy. Every-fucking-body knows. You haven't kept shit a secret. Aizen's already made the goddamn preparations."

Ulquiorra opens his eyes. Grimmjow's expression hasn't changed much, but his face looks wet, the sides of his cheeks. "Preparations for what?"

Grimmjow lets go of him at that, and Ulquiorra feels himself sink into the wall. Grimmjow throws his hands up, looks like he's going to punch. His voice is overly loud, "Preparations for your fucking execution."

Ulquiorra nods, contemplative, "Mm."

Grimmjow does punch him then, and Ulquiorra doesn't bother to block it, his head swinging roughly to the left from the force. Before he can say anything, Grimmjow punches him again, in the stomach, and something bursts, makes blood come rushing to Ulquiorra's mouth, but he doesn't spit any out.

Grimmjow yells, "Wake the fuck up." He wipes his sleeve across his mouth. "You're going to die in a week."

Ulquiorra straightens up to look at Grimmjow's face. "Why do you care? My life is mine to have, or mine to lose. Leave it."

Grimmjow laughs, and it's raw and sick, the darkest kind of humor. "I never took you for someone to give up. Good job, dipshit. Good fucking job."

Ulquiorra feels his mouth quirk the slightest. "Thank you."

Grimmjow punches him again, catching his jawbone and cracking it. "Fuck you."

When Ulquiorra looks up, Grimmjow's gone.


	3. Part Three

_Detox_: Part Three

Ulquiorra wakes up like something is melting his insides to liquid acid and he has never felt so panicked in his entire fucking life, real or not; he sits ups and feels sweat slimy over his skin, like balloons pushing out of his pores, the inside of his mouth tasting like dried copper and iron, too high in metal concentration. His lungs seize, and he pulls his covers back quickly, falls out of bed even faster.

His eyes feel like they're opening up too wide for his skull, like they're trying to pop out and he keeps gasping, unable to take any air in. He crawls on the floor, dragging his body by his elbows, his legs made unusable, knees detached at the joints, stabbing painfully every time he moves them. He still can't breathe.

He keeps crawling until he makes it too his door and lunges to reach the handle, but it rips at his lungs, and his mouth opens wider, too wide, trying to suck in as much air as he can, but he just keeps gasping; his hand touches the handle but it keeps slipping from his grasp. He can't get his muscles to cooperate – can't get them steady enough to hold on.

Ulquiorra keeps gasping, and tries to lunge again. He turns the handle in a sloppy movement, fingers too slick to hold on long enough to make the turn complete, and the door barely opens, hardly cracking a centimeter. He fumbles with the bottom edge of the door, trying to open it further, but his lungs give out before he can, and he sees the black creeping in around the edges.

When Ulquiorra wakes up again, it takes him a moment to remember why he's on the floor, and then another to realize that he's okay. He's breathing normally, and nothing hurts. It's stupidly easy to move his fingers and toes, touch his dry skin. He lies on the floor and counts to one hundred. When he finishes he knows what he has to do, and gets up to see Grimmjow.

* * *

><p>In the hallway, Ulquiorra walks calmly, hands low in his pockets and his back straight – but he feels the weight of stares and doesn't bother with identifying them. It could be anyone, at this point – it could be all of them. It could be Gin. And Ulquiorra doesn't have time for that. He just knows who it is not, and decides to speed up. He disappears on the next step and reappears outside of Grimmjow's room.<p>

Grimmjow's door is twice as large as his and he realizes he's never seen it before. He presses the handle down and pushes the door open. Grimmjow's on his bed, reading a copy of _Candide_ and Ulquiorra has never felt anything like embarrassment before, but if he did, if he ever was to, it would be close.

Grimmjow turns his head to watch him, and his eyes look calmer now, the expression from earlier gone. Ulquiorra shuts the door behind him and speaks before Grimmjow can, "I need to talk with you."

Grimmjow hasn't moved, hasn't put his book down yet. He keeps looking at Ulquiorra, and Ulquiorra's patience grows thin. "I don't plan to be executed."

Grimmjow's face gains the barest hint of interest, one eyebrows mildly rising. He still doesn't speak.

"I'm leaving."

Grimmjow's laugh startles Ulquiorra, and he can't figure out why, but doesn't let it show. "How are you going to do that? You can't fucking run."

Ulquiorra tightens his jaw. "I'm not going to run."

Grimmjow's attention finally focuses on him, and Ulquiorra feels it, like every part of his body weighs twice as much, every part of him so sharply in Grimmjow's line of sight that he couldn't move if he tried. Grimmjow says, "You'll die."

Ulquiorra levels his gaze, "I already told you. My life is mine to lose." He takes a step closer, "But I'm not going to let someone decide that."

A grin starts to split across Grimmjow's face, "You arrogant fuck."

Ulquiorra feels himself shrug. "Take it as a warning." He turns to the left and regards Grimmjow with half-lidded eyes, "I don't plan on your death." He leaves Grimmjow's room, and tries not to think about what he promised.

* * *

><p>Three nights before Ulquiorra's execution, Aizen calls for him, and it's Stark who delivers the message. He seems vaguely apologetic, but more bothered at having to be disturbed. Ulquiorra doesn't waste time and reappears outside of Aizen's chamber, where's he's waiting.<p>

When he's invited into the room, watching the doors separate for him, he can't help some satisfaction.

Aizen gazes down upon him from his throne. He tells Ulquiorra of his execution in the most polite tones, no smile lurking around his mouth this time, but something beset in his eyes as he looks at Ulquiorra, scanning him for a reaction. Ulquiorra says nothing and after a while Aizen tells him, "Very well." He takes a slow breath, "You seem to be aware of why, but out of formality and respect, I will read you the order." He sits up straighter and says, "For falling out of grace, you, Ulquiorra, which I made, will be destroyed in two days time."

Ulquiorra just watches Aizen. He thinks, he hasn't been happier, if that means something, to die. Aizen says, "You can do whatever you want until then. I have no care. No one will watch you." He flicks his hand. "Go now."

Ulquiorra simply turns and walks. Before he makes it past the doors, he hears Aizen say, "A tragedy, really." Ulquiorra can't find it in him to care.

* * *

><p>Two nights before Ulquiorra's execution, Grimmjow knocks once on his door before pushing it open, shutting it roughly behind him.<p>

Ulquiorra glances up at him from where's he's sitting on his floor. Grimmjow's breathing heavier than normal.

Ulquiorra lifts his hand in a small wave.

Grimmjow makes a face at him, "Very funny, shithead." He exhales loudly and then sits next to Ulquiorra in a sloppy pile.

Ulquiorra looks at the side of his face, "Come to say goodbye."

Grimmjow grins at his ceiling, "Something like that."

Ulquiorra nods, "How sentimental."

Grimmjow's facing him before Ulquiorra can count to one, rearing into his personal space. "Aren't you a sweetheart?" He dips his head closer, lips pulling tight around his teeth.

Ulquiorra can see the whites of his eyes. "What are you doing."

Grimmjow says, "Fuck it," and grabs the back of his head in a vice grip, pulling him closer until Grimmjow's mouth touches his, pressing against it lightly. Ulquiorra easily pulls back, not caring how he affects Grimmjow's hand or arm to do so. He looks at Grimmjow, who looks back, until he leans in to do it again, pushing harder this time.

Ulquiorra waits for it to stop, but it doesn't, so he presses back. It is not romantic.

* * *

><p>The night before Ulquiorra's execution, he does not sleep. He watches his ceiling. He's prepared for tomorrow. He's done all that he can do. He thinks he is unafraid to die. He is unafraid of everything. He feels something bubble up in his chest, and almost sneers at it again, but he recognizes it as a crisp satisfaction. He thinks, he wants to see Aizen's face tomorrow, slipping from it's awful beauty into something blank and horrid, into a dull reaction. Ulquiorra closes his eyes and pictures it. He wants to pull Nnorita's tongue from his mouth and put a hole in his chest. He wants to smash Stark's face in the dirt, rip the mask from Halibel's mouth, drown them. He wants to drown them all.<p>

He opens his eyes and feels calm. He doesn't mind dying tomorrow. He doesn't mind at all.


End file.
